Deathstroke Terminus
by DCUnitedFanfics
Summary: Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke, wants revenge on the person who killed his son Joey and won't let anything get in his way, but what happens when one of Jackal's victims get involved in the crossfire? Will he help or will he dismiss and continue with his own mission?
1. Chapter 1

_**Deathstroke wants revenge on the people that killed his son Joey and won't let anything get in his way, but what happens when one of Jackal's victims get involved in the crossfire? Will he help or will he dismiss and continue with his own mission?**_

 **The story is heavily influenced by the comics with only a few influences of the _Arrow_ show** **. This takes place in the comic book universe where Slade never had his eye gouged out by Oliver Queen. He was shot in the eye by his wife.**

 **I do not own the characters, only the plot and the ideas of the story.**

 **Warning: this story may contain graphic violence, sex, nudity, sensitive topics and harsh language.**

* * *

Slade looks up at the ceiling of the helicopter, the turbulence jerking and rumbling throughout his body in the most annoying way. Of course, he doesn't know if it's actually the turbulence or the pilot's bad flying techniques. It's even making the co-pilot throw up. Slade isn't feeling too well himself. 10 hours on a helicopter and he's already turning green in the face behind the orange and black mask. He just needs to wait a little longer and he'll be out of this death trap and into Cambodia soon. He thought of taking a public airplane to Cambodia but he doesn't want anyone to know he's coming. Also, he doesn't want to scare the rest of the passengers if they ever see him dressed in his Deathstroke suit.

Cambodia. The place he never thought he would visit again, especially after what happened with Lillian. It's like visiting a haunted mansion full of ghosts. But to him, it's necessary if he wants to catch the demon. The monster that ruined his life as Slade Wilson.

The phone in his pocket rings. It's Wintergreen. The fifth time he's called. Slade now feels he's being pestered by his friend. He picks up the phone and answers the call.

" _Have you arrived?_ " Wintergreen asks.

"Next time, pick a better pilot that doesn't make his co-pilot throw up," Slade hisses into the phone. Wintergreen chuckles at the other side of the line.

" _Are you arriving?_ "

"Almost."

" _Remember that they can't see the helicopter coming, Slade_."

"I know the plan, Wintergreen. Just a few more miles and I'm leaving this death trap."

" _These are the best men I could find,_ " Wintergreen says in a rather irritated tone.

 _Bull_. Slade doesn't think the same way Wintergreen does. Wintergreen can be a bit too soft sometimes on people. Slade likes things being done right.

"I'm guessing you paid them cheap," he scoffs. "Anything new in the U.S.? Do I have to worry about Batman getting at my ass."

" _Batman has his hands occupied as well as the other heroes_ ," Wintergreen informs him, " _They are unware of your trip or your plans_."

"Good. Just make sure everything's ready when I arrive and keep informing me every now and then," Slade insists. Batman and the rest of the Justice League are the last thing he needs to worry about, especially Oliver Queen and the bitch Dinah Lance.

After this, he hangs up the phone and remains looking out to the ocean. The ocean is deep blue like a gem and flat as a board from what Slade can see. He remembers Joey always insisting to go to the beach. Joey enjoyed building the sand castles and picking up seashells for his mother. Adeline even had a collection of seashell in a shoebox hidden in the closet. Grant always hated the water. Slade remembers smacking Grant in the back of the head for throwing sand into Joey's face and making him cry. He didn't like hitting Grant. Sometimes he hit Joey as well. He hit both of his sons, actually. But it wasn't that he didn't love them. It was because they were both being snotty, arrogant and disobedient. He remembered Grant trying to run away from home when he smacked his own mother in the face out of anger when she grounded him for failing Math test. Slade wasn't going to let Grant get away with that. He had found him and dragged him back home where he forced him to apologize for hitting her.

Unfortunately, Grant still grew up to be a jackass (just like his father). Slade and Adeline are divorced. And Joey? Poor Joey. He never grew up to be anything. And Slade now blames himself for it, after so many years. If only he turned down his mask. If he had left the identity of Deathstroke, maybe Joey would still be alive. But now, Deathstroke is all he has left. He has nothing left to lose.

Now he's going to make things right. He's going to find the man who ruined his life as Slade Wilson.

A few hours later, Slade now sees land two miles away from he is now. He gets the oxygen tank ready as well as his water-proof bag full of guns and clothing. He orders the pilot to stop the helicopter at this very spot. The pilot and the co-pilot are confused at first but when Slade immediately jumps off the helicopter and dives into the ocean, they finally understand that Slade isn't planning and landing the helicopter into Cambodia.

Slade swims towards land, keeping an eye on sharks and other unsuspected predators. He's not afraid of sharks though. He has already been bitten by one once and regenerated his flesh and bone after a few hours. It hurt like shit though, feeling sharp rows of teeth digging into his flesh and tearing it to shreds. Slade had been forced to punch the shark in the eye twice to blind it before it finally let go of his leg. He wasn't concerned of his blood attracting more sharks back then, he's not afraid of them now.

He finally makes it to shore on a deserted beach in Binh Thuan known as the Beach with Moss. He slips on a couple of rocks a few times in attempts to stand up until he finally finds his balance. 50 pounds of armour on his body is not easy to carry. Luckily his new Ikon suit is lighter and easier to move. At first, he never liked his new armour and asked Wintergreen to get rid of it. But it has become useful for him after awhile. It's bullet-proof, easy-moving, light-weighted and doesn't give him a strain in the back. Carrying metal as a suit is no easy job.

Once he arrives at the beach, he strips off from his Ikon suit and dresses up more casually in a beige safari shirt and jeans to look more like a tourist than a man on the hunt. His eyepatch will still make the locals give him questionable looks for his appearance.

Wintergreen knows a lot of people in Cambodia. He has contacts. Slade can always count on him. Wintergreen will always find a way to get Slade's belongings into a hotel without any of the staff peeking into the bags to find his weapons and costume. He will always find allies that will aid him and Slade with their missions.

Like right now, a red Jeep pulls over at the other side of the beach and an Asian woman steps out of it, waving at him. Slade recognizes the familiar red dragon tattoo wrapped around her arm. Shado.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?" Slade asks while sitting in the passenger's seat with his bag in the back and Shado driving, "You're not Vietnamese."

"No, but I blend in just fine since some of you American tourists see us all the same," Shado smirks without taking her eyes off the road, the wind making her black hair flap around her face, "If you all just look at our eyes, you may see that we don't all look the same."

"I'm not saying that you do," Slade offers her a smirk in return and then asks, "Where are we heading?"

"We? Who says anything about we? Wintergreen called ahead, by the way. I'm only a _taxi_ _driver_ ," she chuckles as if finding his question amusing, "My job is to drop your ass off at the nearest hotel. Heritage Suite. That's where you're going. After that, I'll be on my way."

"You're not still mad about that Great Ten thing that happened two years ago, are you?" Slade asks. Shado gives him the middle finger as a response to his question. _Yep, she's still angry as fuck_. He still remembers the Great Ten. As much as they still do favours for him, Yao Fei, Fang Zhifu, Xu Tao, Ghost Fox (her full name is Ghost Fox Killer but Slade prefers to call her Ghost Fox for short), Chen Nuo, Wu Mei-Xing, Yang Kei-Ying, Lao Yuqi, Gu Lao and Zou Kang, they're still angry as hell about a mission they botched up two years and nearly got themselves killed. The Great Ten are all Chinese. Shado is Japanese. Shado was also temporarily joining the team of the Great Ten for awhile as well as Slade.

Slade knows that if he ever faces the Great Ten again, he's in for a world of hurt and not the good kind of hurt. Shado already looks like she's about to eat him alive. Of course, if Wintergreen paid her with enough money, it's obvious she's trying very hard not to kill Slade on the way to their destination.

"So, what brings you here to Cambodia?" Shado asks bitterly, "Visiting old ghosts?"

"I'm here on official business, dear," he says.

"It doesn't look like business. It looks like something personal, Slade. Why would you be carrying a bag of guns and swords if it's _just_ _business_ , as you say."

"It's classified," he sighs.

With that, Shado steps on the breaks and the Jeep screeches with a halt. Slade glares at Shado irritably. They're wasting time stopping here in the middle of nowhere having a glaring contest.

"Listen to me very carefully, Slade Wilson," she says with a warning in her venomous tone, "Whatever problem you have right now, I don't want any part of it. I already have enough trouble as it is. So don't expect me for anymore favours to whatever shit you're in. Got it?"

"I got it, sweetheart," he smirks and winks at her.

"Don't ever call me sweetheart again, unless you want to keep that dick of yours in the right place," she threatens before continuing to drive their way.

She's just as feisty as he remembers. That's what he has always liked about Shado. Strong-willed. Stubborn. And not willing to take shit from anyone, including Slade. As much as Slade likes having Shado around, this is something he needs to do alone. He doesn't want her involved in anything he came here for which is the reason why he's not telling her.

 _I came here to kill the son of bitch that killed my son_.

* * *

 **So, guys, what do you think of this chapter? Good? Bad? Does it need work? Leave a review down below and tell me what you think of this first chapter.**


	2. Hey guys!

**Hey, guys, I really am sorry about not updating on Deathstroke Terminus. I've been currently occupied with schoolwork and my other fanfictions. Right now, I just finished my first one and now I'm moving on to the others. But I really do hope to continue this one.**

 **However, there are going to be mayor changes with this fanfiction. For one, I won't have Raven as Deathstroke's love interest. Why? I just don't feel comfortable writing about adults having relations with teens. I've read a few Raven/Slade fanfictions and I like them. I just don't feel comfortable writing about it. That and the story is going to take place in a different universe so sorry for the inconvenience.**


	3. Chapter 2

_"_ _Dad?" Slade sees Joey at the doorway of his bedroom. There was a bloody cut on Joey's knee and the boy's face was red and teary._

 _"_ _Now what the hell did you do this time?"_

 _"_ _I fell," Joey says innocently. Slade approaches his son and picks him up in his arms in a tight embrace._

 _"_ _Let's get you cleaned up."_

* * *

Just as planned, Slade is able to sneak his bag of weapons to the hotel without the staff peeking, with the help of Wintergreen's allies. Some of their allies work at hotels. Some work at restaurants. If you pay them well, they'll sure you're safe or at least they'll try to make sure you don't screw up, like Shado. Some of the people Slade and Wintergreen hire is people that need to pay off their debts; if not, they're dead meat. Some are just returning a favor.

Once Shado dropped him off at Heritage Hotel, he registers for his hotel suite using cash instead of credit cards. He doesn't want his name anywhere registered, except for that notebook on the counter but nowhere in the computer system. He uses a fake name though just in case. If the Jackal finds out about him being in Cambodia in any way possible, all of his plans will fail. He needs to stay hidden for the time being.

Everything is going according to plan.

In his hotel room, Wintergreen called and informed him that the Jackal will be bringing in a truck that would be containing 40 sex slaves, most of them kidnapped. Two of the Jackal's assistants will be there in charge of the sex trade. One of them should know where the Jackal is. If Slade finds the truck, he'll find the Jackal.

Slade heads for the bar. Slade can never get drunk no matter how many bottles of alcohol he drank. It would take more than four bottles to get him sober.

"Hi." A blonde woman is seated at the other side of the bar having a glass of rice wine, a distilled liquor made of rice from fermentation of rice starch converted to sugars. Slade has a read about them, how it is used to cure muscle aches, fatigue, and menstrual cramps. He wonders if the woman has menstrual cramps or muscle aches he might not know of.

Slade will stick to snake wine, an alcohol with a whole snake infused in rice wine or grain alcohol. Venomous snakes are mostly used, having their essence and venom dissolved in the liquor though it poses no threat to the drinker. He sees the bottle of red-tinted wine with a cobra snake inside. It's steeped. He has read that snakes are believed to possess medicinal qualities to improve health and to increase sexual performances. If Slade had added scorpion to the mix, it would have been too much.

The blonde woman is very pretty. Mid-thirties. Blonde pixie cut hair. Brown eyes. And dressed in a white sleeveless dress of thin coarse fabric. A tourist, he assumes. American. Slade, of course, is Australian.

The blonde woman moves from the end of the bar and walks to where Slade is and sits next to him. "I'm Patricia Trayce."

Slade grins. "Slade Wilson."

They both shake hands. Slade notices a wedding ring in her finger. He can imagine she's a gold digger married to some old stupid fart who has no idea his wife is flirting with another man. A wife who truly loves her husband would never flirt with another man. Unless she only married the man for money and privileges. Slade can expose her if he wanted to. _If_ he wanted to.

"You're here on vacation?" she asks before taking a sip of her rice wine.

"Business, actually," Slade answers.

"Me too," Patricia says, "My husband brought me here on his business trip. Now I'm stuck here alone in the bar, having a drink while he's in a board meeting at a conference room."

Slade chuckles. "That's a shame. A real husband that loves his wide would pay more attention to her than his own colleagues."

Patricia sighs at this comment. "Indeed."

"And if your husband can't do that, someone else should," he says before taking another shot of snake wine.

"Would you?" she asks with a raise of an eyebrow.

* * *

With that, Slade takes Patricia Tracey to his hotel suite where he fucked her until four in the morning, or until she becomes numb with her legs turning into gelatin, thrusting in and out of her, fast and rough, nearly pounding into her every way possible and every position he could think of, listening to her moan, squeal and cry in ecstasy. It's been a while since he had sex with another woman, the feeling of soft skin, cupping their breasts and pinching their nipples, listening to the usual yells and pleasurable cries. It's only been a few months. So it wasn't that long. Still, he was bored out of his mind and if he's going to spend the next few weeks hunting the Jackal, he might as well make the most of his free time doing something besides sitting at a bar drinking snake venom.

Slade is now lying down on the bed next to Patricia who's now sleeping after long hours of them fucking. He remains looking up at the ceiling with his hands placed on the back of his head and a light sheen of sweat covering his toned torso.

He continues thinking of what would have happened if he never donned the Deathstroke mask in the first place. Maybe he would still be married to Adeline. Maybe Joseph would still be alive. And perhaps he'd be living a life some people want, a life that would drive him crazy. Live an apple-pie life. Perhaps in his retirement, he can work as a mechanic, a martial arts teacher since he's been trained in the military before, or a businessman like Patricia Tracey's husband. Of course, with his type of reputation and history, he doubts he'll even get a job at McDonald's. He's lucky though. McDonald's would have been a nightmare for him. But being with Adeline, Grant and Joey would be marvelous.

At four in the morning, her wakes up Patricia and kicks her out of the hotel suite, much to her distaste and disappointment. It's not like he wouldn't like another hour with her. He would. But he has a job to do. The Jackal. The man who killed his son Joey.

* * *

11: 30 p.m..

It's time. Time to get to work. He wants to find and kill the Jackal as soon as possible, glad to end his reign of terror. Even if he'd be doing everyone a favour getting rid of him, it's more of a personal reason.

He remembers well what Wintergreen told him. A truck full of 40 sex slaves, most of them kidnapped. Two of the Jackal's assistants will be there in charge of the sex trade. One of them should know where the Jackal is. If Slade finds the truck, he'll find the Jackal. Slade rented a Jeep Wrangler to drive around the streets and he parks near the spot where the truck would arrive at 11:57 p.m.

Slade is dressed in a neat light grey business suit which he saved in his duffle bag. Many of the women in those trucks would be sold as prostitutes. Pimps are reported to imprison young children and woman, mostly virgins and they are not put to work until they are presented to bidders such as military officers, politicians, businessmen and foreign tourists. They receive no money, only food, and they would be shot to death if they try running away. Many are often held captive, beaten, and starved into prostitution. As much as Slade doesn't give a shit about them, he does feel pity.

Some prostitutes are brought in from Vietnam or Laos but most are Cambodians. But these days, with Wintergreen's resources, Slade has seen pictures of prostitutes that originate from Europe, Canada, Latin America and the U.S. These are kidnapped girls and judging by the way they're dressed, he has to guess those girls belong to the Jackal.

"Hey, mister." Slade looks to the right side of the Jeep, to find a little boy standing there. Dark skin, girly baby face, shaven head, barefooted and dressed in a dirty shirt and torn jeans. He looks about eight or nine. "Do you have any change?"

"Beat it, kid," Slade growls harshly.

The boy pouts in disappointment before walking away.

Slade sighs as he watches the boy leave. Thinking about it, he might be of some use, just as long as he doesn't steal anything. The kid wouldn't steal even if he tries. Slade will shoot him right on the spot.

"Hey, kid! Come back here!" he calls out.

The boy turns around and quickly runs back to the Jeep. Even his feet look dirty and small.

"What's you name?" Slade asks.

"Kiran Singh," the boy answers.

"Okay, Kiran, how would you like 200?" Slade says as he takes out two 100 riels. Kiran almost snatches them from his hand but Slade quickly snatches them back roughly and shoves the boy back. "Uh-uh. You need to earn it first. I need you to do something for me."

Kiran nods his head. "Yes."

"There's a delivery truck on the way here," he says, "The name of the truck is called Golden Phoenix. It's a big black truck. I need you to keep a look out. If you see the truck arrive, come back. Here." He gives Kiran 100 riels. "You'll get the rest when you see the truck coming."

Kiran looks at the money in his hand before looking back at Slade. "Making it 400 and I'll stand at the spot waiting for the truck to arrive."

Slade frowns at him. For a small kid, he's sharp at negotiating. Maybe there's hope for him yet. "You get 300."

"400," Kiran opposes.

"350 and I won't shoot you," Slade says firmly.

The boy simply sighs in defeat. "Deal."

* * *

 _"Slade, this is all your fault," Adeline hissed angrily as they wait in the hall for any news from the doctor, "If it weren't for you -."_

 _"If it weren't for me, Joey would be on the ground dead and not here in the hospital," Slade snapped back. Not while back, Joey was kidnapped by the Jackal and his men for refusing a paid assignment. Slade shot one of the men that held Joey with a knife to his neck but Joey still had his throat slit open when the man fell dead. Slade took Joey to the hospital where he hoped they could save him._

 _"It's your job that got us into this mess in the first place," Adeline said while poking her finger at Slade's chest. "If you have told me, I would have been more prepared but no. It's always about you, isn't it? If he dies, Slade, I'll **never** forgive you."_

 _But that's what happened. The doctors informed them that Joey wouldn't make it through the night since the damage was severe. Slade sat by the hospital bed, holding his son's hand while watching him slowly die in his sleep. At least Joey died in his sleep peacefully even if the events weren't. Adeline didn't stay in the room. She went to the bathroom to cry instead of stay by her son's side. Slade was the one who remained by his side even if he didn't cry like Adeline did. Yes, Slade was heartbroken over Joey's death but he was more angry with the fact he couldn't save him from the Jackal. The Jackal did this to his son._

 _Joseph Wilson died at two in the morning. He was only 11. The beeps on the monitor flatlined and Slade covered Joey's body with the paper sheet instead of letting the doctors do it. He already threatened to punch the doctor if he went anywhere near Joey._

 _Three days after the funeral, Slade went back home to pack up as he had another job to do. Of course, he found a surprise in the form of Adeline standing in the doorway holding a gun in her hand._

 _"I hope you burn in hell," she said before pulling the trigger._

 _...To his misfortune, not even hell wanted Slade there._

* * *

"Hey, Mister." Kiran's small child voice brings Slade out of his thoughts and back to reality. He sees the boy running back to where he has his Jeep parked. "A truck is here. Is that the one?"

Slade looks over to the spot Wintergreen indicated him, a desolated road. A black truck with the Golden Phoenix brand printed on the side is parked there. The doors to the trucks are open and at least four muscled men are spotted.

"Yes, that's the one," Slade says as he gets out of the Jeep and gives Kiran another 100 riel before heading his way to the truck.

"Hey, you said 350!" Kiran calls out to him.

"Keep an eye on the Jeep and you'll get the rest!" he says as he continues to walk over to the truck. Kiran simply scoffs and leans back against the Jeep, pouting in frustration. Slade knows that if the kid wants the 350, he'll have to do his job.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Slade smiles at the four glaring men at the truck. "I was hoping to purchase some rice from your truck."

"You can buy it in some of the local markets," one of the men say with their macho tough guy act. Of course, Slade shows the gun in his pocket, showing that he's armed. "We have guns too, you know. Big ones. Bigger than yours," the man says.

"There's no need for them though," Slade says kindly, "I happen to be a reasonable man. As you can see, I've searched locals markets but some of the bags of rice are outdated or hard as pebbles. I'm hoping if any of you have something _fresh_ for me. 2,000 riels will do, I'm guessing."

One of the others, a Vietnamese, says: "Make it 5,000."

Slade rolls his eye. Again with this. This guy is worse than the kids. "3,000."

"5,000."

"Show me what you have in the truck and we'll see if it's worth first," Slade says, "If so, four thousand then. Take it or leave it."

The Vietnamese man rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says before looking at his companion. "Show him the delivery."

Two of the men lead Slade to the back of the truck.

As expected, the back of the truck is filled with 40 young women and children, all of them dressed in small clothing that shows plenty of skin and leaves little to the imagination. They are all huddled together whimpering in fear, wrists tied or handcuffed and some having bruises on their arms and legs (probably from being beaten or raped). He sees a twelve-year-old Vietnamese girl wearing a silver mini dress with a bruised eye and a swollen lip. There's even a girl from Scotland. Most of these girls are from around the world: Paris, Guadalupe, Rio de Janeiro, London, Hong Kong, Germany, Puerto Rico, the U.S.; etc. Girls that were probably tourists having a fun time but ripped out from the streets by someone posing as a tour guide named Jack and then dragging them into a black van in the middle of the night. _How barbaric_ , Slade lets out a pitiful sigh as he continues looking at this devastating sight. Unfortunately, Slade isn't here to pity these girls. He's here under personal affairs and he's not going to waste his time freeing them.

"The twelve-year-old is named Hua," the Vietnamese man says while showing him around, "She's from my home country. Her parents sold her for 200 đồng."

"They didn't seem to love her very much then," Slade says, "Do you have anyone older? I'm not comfortable buying someone so young."

"According to law around these countries, twelve is the age of consent."

"Not where I come from though," Slade contradicts. He keeps looking around the truck without being too obvious, searching for the right spot to place the tracking device. "Be honest, you must have someone around here of appropriate age."

"We do have a few girls around here in their early twenties but they're not bought as much as the younger girls," the Vietnamese man says. Slade notices the guy's name tag. _Lavan_. His name is Lavan.

"Could you show me?" Slade asks.

"Sure," Lavan nods.

Lavan shows Slade four girls that are the age between 19 and 24. A 21-year-old Thai girl named Chanhira Terdsak. A 19-year-old girl from Czech Republic named Ivana Vlachová. Another 21-year-old girl, this time African-American, named Darelle Benson from New Orleans. And a 20-year-old from Texas named Nyla. Slade doesn't catch her last name though.

Almost all of these girls look sedated, probably the only way to keep them from fighting or running. _The Jackal isn't stupid then_ , Slade assumes.

He sees a useful spot in the corner at the back of the truck. A good place to hide a tracker.

Slade points at a dazed brunette at the far end of the truck. "What about her? The one in the back. The brunette."

Lavan, however, shakes his head. "Trust me, you don't want to buy her. She's crazy. A psychopath. She stabbed five of my boss' men with a fork trying to escape. Luckily we're able to keep her in a sedative state. No one will buy her though. Too old and aggressive for the clients."

"What's her name?"

"Megan Kuttler. She's 24 years old and she's Jewish," Lavan informs him, "We took her out of Starling City three weeks ago and so far she's been nothing but trouble. She tried to help some of these girls escape like she was fucking Moses or something."

"What happens to girls like her that can't be bought?" Slade asks, acting curious.

"Boss' orders. We shoot them," Lavan explains.

Like putting down a rabid dog, Slade thinks. It's a cruel way to deal with women that want to fight for their freedom, Megan Kuttler is no exception. She doesn't deserve what's coming to her. On the other hand, she's provoking her own death so there's nothing he can do about it without the Jackal's men finding out what he's up to. He'll need to get closer in order to put the tracker, even if it means getting attacked by Megan McStabby over there.

"It wouldn't hurt to take a look though," Slade insists.

Lavan simply shrugs his shoulders. "Your money."

Lavan accompanies Slade to the back of the truck to check on Megan Kuttler.

Slade crouches down next to Megan to get a better look at her, even if it's for simply to place the tracker without it being seen. Slade can't help but admit that she's really pretty despite being skinny (probably from the lack of proper feeding), frail and having a diminutive physique. The messy wavy dark brown hair reminds him of Adeline. Adeline, however, has brown eyes. This Megan girl has blue/green eyes. The black corset around her torso and the purple shorts leave very little to the imagination.

"She is quite lovely," Slade compliments while slipping the tracker the corner. The girl is mumbling incoherent words to herself like a crazy woman.

"She's not unattractive, I'll tell you that," Lavan scratches the back of his head, "You might want to take a step back -."

"Aargh!" The girl screams in rage as she lunges at Slade and Lavan while swinging an open pocketknife she has in her hand. Slade immediately takes a step back. How did she get loose and where did she get the pocketknife? "Bastard! I'm going to kill you, Jackal -!"

Lavan quickly snatches her swinging hand and backhands her harshly in the face, causing her to knock her head hard against the metal wall of the truck. Ouch. Slade looks at his right arm at the feel of a small sting and finds a small torn on the sleeve of his suit with a fresh red stain on it.

"Bitch," Lavan mutters before taking the pocketknife away and spitting at her before apologizing to Slade about the suit.

"It's a'right," Slade assures him, "I'll have it washed and stitched when I return to Australia."

He then tells Lavan he'll have to think about it before deciding which girl he would purchase from them even though he'll just be thinking of an excuse of how not to buy them without making the Jackal's lackeys angry. He'll need to talk to his supervisor, which is total bullshit.

While heading back to the Jeep (which is still being guarded by the Kiran kid like instructed), he looks over his shoulder every now and then where he sees Lavan and one of the three men dragging a struggling and screaming Megan Kuttler out of the truck. She is backhanded in the face again, knocked out cold this time, before carried to a Hummer H1 parked in front of the truck where she is placed in the backseat. Lavan instructs to the two remaining men to stay and keep an eye on the _delivery_ while he and his colleague _take care of Megan_.

They're going to kill her. Slade knows it. They'll probably rape her first and then kill her. Then they'll leave her body for the animals to eat. Sorry kid, Slade thinks while shaking his head and sighing in disappointment. Such a waste. But it's not his problem. It's hers.

That's when he hears the tracking device beeping. Frowning in confusion, he takes out the device that shows where the tracker is. It's been activated. Odd. It's not supposed to turn on by itself. It can only be activated by him or Wintergreen. Yet Billy doesn't even know Slade planted the tracker. Someone must have activated the tracker manually. And it's moving. _What the fuck?_ The truck is still there. How the - ?

"You little bitch," Slade growls to himself while storming back to his own Jeep and pushes Kiran roughly out of the way.

"Hey!" the boy snaps.

Slade takes out the money gives it to Kiran. "There. 400. Just like you wanted." Then he drives away to follow Lavan's Hummer, leaving Kiran in a state of confusion.

* * *

Slade drives the Jeep as fast as possible, trying to catch up to the Hummer. The bitch of Megan Kuttler found the tracker and took it. She took Slade's only chance of finding the Jackal. He needs the tracker back. He only has one.

The Hummer makes a left turn, driving down another road, heading for a dirt lane that leads to the forest. It looks like they're going to kill her there, the place where no one would find her except for the animals. Slade follows the vehicle into the dark road, slowing down to keep a distance and keeping the headlights off so they won't see him coming. He puts on his mask and load his gun.

* * *

Once they are far from civilization, Lavan drags Megan out of the Hummer by the hair, ignoring her yells and struggles. She kicks and claws at Lavan's wrists but his colleague grabs her legs to keep her from kicking.

"The boss is going to kill us if he finds out we're killing her, Khalan," Lavan says.

"We'll just tell him she ran off," Khalan says, "Simply as that."

They toss Megan to the ground and Lavan kicks her hard in the stomach to keep her from getting up. She gasps as the air got knocked out of her. The two men laugh in amusement with Khalan pouring a bottle of vodka all over her.

"So what do you think?" he asks, "Should we just put a bullet in her brain or set her on fire?"

"How about we fuck her up first and then we'll decide how to kill her?" Lavan chuckles before approaching Megan. She tries to crawl away but gets kicked in the stomach again, more than three times. Even a rib can be heard cracking, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Go to heeeeelll!" she screams.

Lavan and Khalan laugh at this. Lavan pins her face-down while Khalan is pulling her pants down.

"Let her go."

The two men look up to see a man dressed in armor and wearing a black-and-orange mask, and aiming a gun at them.

"Fuck off," Lavan hisses at the masked man.

Of course, this is responded by getting shot, his head nearly getting blown off, blood and brains splattering on the ground, the body following afterwards. Khalan panics and tries to make a run for it, only to get his head blasted off as well.

Slade approaches Megan and aims the gun at her head.

"Give me the tracker," Slade commands her.

Megan breathes heavily, in strong wheezing gasps while staring at him with wide eyes. "Please...Help me."

"Why should I?" he asks.

"...I know where the Jackal is."

* * *

 **Chapter 2 is here. Finally.**

 **Hope you guys like it.**


	4. Announcement

**Hey guys, I'm back. And I'm happy to tell you all that I'm done with college for the summer. Now I will have more time to write my fanfictions. I really am sorry about not posting another chapter but college has been tough and I could only do one or two fanfics at a time. And when finals came along, I just froze completely. I could not write anything for the next two weeks or month. However you guys want to put it but like I said, sorry and I promise to write another chapter to my fanfictions very soon.**


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